


Broken Crown

by nuricurry



Category: Saint Seiya Omega
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuricurry/pseuds/nuricurry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once she was gone, there was nothing left to keep the demons at bay. Spoilers for Saint Seiya Omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Crown

**Broken Crown**  
  
He stared into the gaping hole that was slowly swallowing up all the happiness in his life, unable to look away as the dirt began to blemish the surface of the polished wood. His entire life fit into a such a small box, one that grew smaller and smaller as it was hidden underneath piles of earth. There were no tears, there were no words, nothing was left inside him, because it had all died in a moment of ash.   
  
A small hand slipped into his, tiny, thin fingers wrapping around one of his larger ones. Sonia squeezed, and he knew she was seeking some kind of comfort, a reassurance he couldn’t give her. So he stood still as that last flicker of his happiness was snuffed out.  
  
  
It was like being possessed at times, acting only on urge and instinct. He moved, struck, spoke, in a body that didn’t feel like his, unfamiliar and dark and angry, things foreign to him, things he once looked upon in disgust but now encompassed. Yet it was the times that he didn’t feel overcome, those moments that his mind was painfully clear that were worst. It was then he understood true evil, and how he had never been better than it. He had always been this way, a natural disaster boiling beneath the surface. Misha had been the barricade on those emotions, she had been what kept him in check. Now, without her, he had become the thing he was meant to be. He followed his destiny, the one that lead him down dark alleys at night with a pistol and no words to spare. He walked down the path that lead him to a pile of corpses in the form of photos, each one marked in red when he was finally rid of them.   
  
Perhaps if he killed enough demons, his own would follow suit.  
  
  
Hiding things had never come easy to him. Even something as simple as a surprise gift or special thought was quickly revealed, never one to keep secrets. But he hid this from Sonia. He was Jekyll and Hyde, man by day and beast by night. It was Sonia he was doing this for, because if they took Misha, they would take her as well. He had to get rid of them, he had to get rid of anything that threatened her, because she had Misha’s hair and Misha’s laugh and that was all that was left. It was all he had, and he kept it selfishly, held tight to his breast to shield it from anything, and locking it away in secured rooms at night.   
  
But there were nights that he came back worn, ragged, his breath a rattle in his chest. With heavy feet, he would follow the path to her room he had followed a hundred thousand times before, each time since Misha’s death longer than the one before. There would be gunpowder on his cloths and rain in his hair, but he would still kneel down beside her little bed, looking at a face that knew nothing, and yet also knew too much. She knew death too close, too soon. She knew the sufferings of the world before she could do anything to fight against it. She was a pawn of fate, toyed with to the point of breaking, and he had to take her from it’s hands before he lost her too.   
  
It was only once that he had awoken her with his tears, and she reached up to him with those small hands that had sought his in that cemetery a lifetime before. He lifted her into his arms and there was nothing for a moment, only silence before her eyes, ones that mirrored his own in too many ways found his face. He remembered her doing it so many times, even as an infant she had frequently don’t nothing more than simply look at him, as if looking for something she could only find within his expression. For a moment, there was fear that she would see, and her familiarity with how he looked revealed how much he had changed. Would he scare her like he scared himself? He couldn’t stomach the thought.   
  
Pulling her closer then, he rest her head on his shoulder and held her there, smoothing over her hair and murmuring for her to sleep. He couldn’t let her see him fall apart. Not when she relied on him so exclusively now with her mother gone.  
  
  
That was why he welcomed a mask so much later on.


End file.
